Catch Up
by Voleuse

There are only a dozen people in the world that can tell Fred and George Weasley apart without magic.

Lee Jordan is one of them, most of the time.

It's fairly easy when they speak longer than a punchline. Rascals both, as their mother often says, but their mischiefs usually take different linguistic turns.

When they aren't talking, however, Lee is as clueless as the rest. Like now, for instance.

He had stepped over to Honeydukes for a peppermint frog and upon exiting the shop, had been pulled into a nearby alley by a twin.

No jokes. No words. Not even the trademark Weasley grin that he knew so well, heralding mayhem.

Just one of the twins, inches taller than Lee and impossibly lean, backing him against the cold bricks of the alley. A smile twists the corner of his mouth as Lee sputters around his newly-purchased sweet.


He doesn't respond. He doesn't even twitch.


The twin shrugs, smiles again, and kisses him.

Suddenly, Lee is glad of the peppermint.


Lee Jordan, when not calling Quidditch scores, is best known as a friend of the Weasley twins. It should be demeaning, to have that qualification added when he's introduced to new students, but it's not.

It's an honor, really, because no one can get close to the twins, aside from the endless tumble of their family. Sometimes, Lee suspects even they don't know the twins that well.

It's easy enough, he knows, to dismiss them both as run-of-the-mill pranksters.

He made that mistake during their first year, and he ended up hiding from the giant squid for an hour and a half as a result.

The truth, plain and simple, is that the Weasley twins are smarter than any of the students in Hogwarts. Lee sometimes thinks that they might be smarter than all of the students, combined.

Lee's no slouch himself, but he knows when he's outmatched. Fred and George could run circles around him, if only they would listen in class instead of planning the next prank.

Even when they don't follow along, when they're too busy bending familiar charms to suit their whims, it only takes them a moment to make a lesson clear to Lee. To make it funny. To make it easy. To make him understand.

That's why he doesn't mind if, once in a while, one of the twins runs off with his books.

It's why he chases him (whichever one he is) down the corridors of Hogwarts, far from the laughter of their fellow Gryffindors, and into a warm, dark corner.

Lee finds it's much easier to learn when a Weasley twin is around.


He can hear his classmates passing by the alley, can barely decipher their chatter over the roaring in his ears. The younger students are probably returning to Hogwarts, while the older ones are finding new diversion.

Dusk is blanketing Hogsmeade, but he doesn't miss the sun. Pressed between a brick wall and a whip-thin body, he's never felt warmer.

The twin rubs slowly, luxuriously against him, and his head falls back and hits the wall with a thunk.

They both pause, break the kiss. Lee winces, after the fact, and so misses the smirk, or the eyeroll, or any other expression that might have given him a hint of this twin's identity.

There are shadows falling over them, now, and Lee can't speak with the twin's lips on his own.


When not with the twins, Lee Jordan is known for being a spokesman. If the Gryffindors have to rally, he's the one leading the well-intentioned mob.

Let Percy be the prefect, let Wood be the captain. Let Potter do whatever he does.

Lee Jordan, before anyone else, is the voice of Gryffindor.

When he's not with the twins.

When he's with them, he's no longer a voice. Then, he's an addendum. A third member of what should be a duo.

When he's with them, he can't bring himself to care.

He's happy if he's able to keep up with their whirlwind.


It sounds like the last students are leaving Hogsmeade, and Lee draws away from the twin with a curse. (Not, of course, a real curse, but one of the Muggle kind.)

"It's time to go," and Lee's straightening his robes, buckling his trousers properly.


The twin shrugs.


Quirks an eyebrow.

"We have to go." Lee turns and dashes after his classmates.

He's halfway back to Hogwarts before he realizes that the twin didn't follow him.


Lee Jordan doesn't lack friends, his attachment to the twins aside. He's known throughout Hogwarts, and unlike some of his compatriots, he's able to have pleasant conversation with most anyone from any house. Even, occasionally, the gits from Slytherin.

Quidditch, he thinks, is the great equalizer. You're either good, or a rabid fan. There is no in between.

Small talk, then, comes easily.

Sometimes Lee grows tired of talking, though, and that's when he seeks out the Weasley twins.

They, of course, also talk, half in riddles and half in jokes, but always with a candor Lee finds comforting.

The twins, he finds, are also equalizers. To them, you're either family, or prey.

Lee knows what category he falls under.

He can't bring himself to care.


After returning from Hogsmeade, he wanders down a lonely corridor, wondering where the twins might have gone. Wondering why the twin he had been with hadn't returned with him.

Wondering which one of the Weasley twins he snogged this time.

He's so lost in thought that he doesn't notice one of the twins, leaning against an odd statue by the wall. Not until said twin has ensnared him, that is. Once again, Lee Jordan finds himself pressed between a wall and a Weasley.

He tries to identify this one (the same one?), but the lips and the teeth and the oh! The hands are distracting him.

When the sound of footsteps echo down the hallway, close enough to startle them apart, Lee catches his breath.

Looks at the twin, who still hasn't spoken, though his hands are roving under Lee's robes.


The twin pauses, looks Lee in the eye.

"Which one are you?"

The twin shrugs. Smiles.

"Were you at Hogsmeade with me?"

He doesn't answer Lee, but turns, and disappears into the shadows.

Until the next time.


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